Quick preface: I thought nanowrimo was this month for a second, so I started typing, thinking I’d do a fictionalized version of myself that came out when her egg cracked instead of waiting 30 years. I was like 3/4ths of the way through the day’s word count when I realized I’m off by a month, but writing this was so cathartic that I kept going.

Amber, she thought, would be a good name. The hard part would be getting people to call her that. Or to acknowledge that she was, in fact, a girl.

Amber was moving to Colorado, because the doctor had determined that she was allergic to the entire state of California. Her dad had found a job doing the same things with computers that he always had done, but in Colorado instead, so they moved. A move seemed like a good time for a fresh start, a fresh name, and a fresh gender.

She was scared to tell her parents what was going on, but she was more determined than scared. All she needed to do was to find the right words and the right time. So as they drove through the endless desert, she sat in her seat, staring at the nothing out the back window of the station wagon, and tried to find the words. ‘Hey mom and dad, I’m actually a girl and my name is actually Amber.’ but that wasn’t quite right, there was so much more. And that sounded so defiant, didn’t her parents know best when they gave her a boy name and acted like she was a boy? But that wasn’t right either, maybe -

Just then the baby woke up and started crying. Mom and Dad stopped their quiet conversation up in front, and Mom called out softly “It’s ok Ben, we’ll pull over as soon as we get a chance.” Right, Amber thought, I have to call him Ben now, because the new baby is on the way, and she’ll be the baby, and he’ll just be Ben.

But the desert of nothing dragged on and the crying kept escalating, so soon EVERYONE in the car was grumpy. Sally started poking Amber instead of staying on her side of the back seat, and Betsy just kept drawing in her sketchbook, but with one finger in her ear, to try to quiet the noise. Dad finally gave in and pulled over on the side of the freeway, because there hadn’t been a sign in five miles.

While Mom took care of Ben, changing his diaper and nursing him, Dad dug out some snacks from somewhere and passed out a handful of GORP to each of the three big kids. “Good ol’ raisins and peanuts! Don’t just pick the M&Ms out, I don’t want to be cleaning all your peanuts out of the car later.”

“How much longer will we be in the car?” asked Amber. “Well our hotel is in Salt Lake City, so I think we are more than halfway there.” said Dad. “Halfway! Uggggggghhh…” said Amber. She ignored Sally, who had resumed her poking as soon as Dad wasn’t looking, and turned to Sugar, her little snow white teddy bear, and pretended to feed him peanuts, which fell directly on the floor of the car. “Can we at least get out and stretch our legs?” asked Sally. “No,” answered Dad, “we aren’t even at a rest stop, there’s just this road and a bunch of prickly plants, no where safe to run. Just… take a nap or read your book or color, we’ll be at the hotel before dinner and you can take a swim.”

Finally they had made it to the hotel! Hotels were fun because they had a pool, but Amber wasn’t as excited about the pool as usual. Her swimsuit was a boys swimsuit, and she felt self-conscious about her chest. Sally’s swim suit was bright yellow with red flowers and covered her chest, but Amber’s was just dark blue and looked like a pair of shorts. But a pool still sounded good after a long day of sitting still in the car, so she just kinda awkwardly tried to carry her towel in front of her until she got almost to the pool, then dropped off the towel and jumped into the pool in one quick motion, so no one would see. Once she was neck deep in the pool she felt much better about it, so she stayed at that depth and splashed and played with her family and the other kids at the pool.

The drive the next day was much more interesting, the scenery more varied and the mountains loomed. Soon, Amber’s dad was driving through tunnels and across bridges and up and down switchbacks, and Amber’s mom was trying not to swear at him for driving “too fast” or “too close to the edge”. They got out and stretched their legs and the kids got their photograph taken with the big sign that said the Continental Divide, and spit on both sides of the slope, so their spit would end up in both oceans. Amber didn’t like getting her photograph taken, because they always looked like some boy instead of how she felt she should look, but she smiled anyway, big and cheesy and forced.

After getting to Denver they drove up to The Rental and all got out. The moving truck was already there, and there were boxes of stuff everywhere. The Rental smelled funny and had weird stained glass windows, and even weeks later, when things had been unpacked, it didn’t feel like home. Amber wasn’t comfortable, in her skin, or in this house, or with the sights and smells, and she was definitely scared, so she never found time to tell her parents about what was going on. She also was sad, because Sugar’s best friend, Oatmeal, a little brown teddy bear, somehow didn’t make it to Colorado in the move and was lost forever. Her parents, also, were busy with the new job and putting things in order, and looking for an actual house to move into.

It was always one excuse or another, there was always something going on that kept Amber from speaking up. They moved out of the rental and into a proper home, and then promptly all caught the Chicken Pox. They had met new friends at Church and at Co-op, who took care of them while they recovered, but Amber still felt like no one really knew her, because they called her a boy and didn’t use her name, but she still hadn’t found time to sit down with her parents and have this very important conversation.

Finally it was her Birthday. She was turning 8 years old today, and her new friends were here, and there was cake and presents… but everything was slightly wrong. The cake had blue icing instead of pink, and had the wrong name on it. She got hotwheels and legos in her presents, when she wanted polly pocket and lego in her presents. When they sang happy birthday, they used a name that fit her body, but not her brain. And all the cards had “birthday boy” instead of “birthday girl.” So when she closed her eyes and blew out her candles and made a wish, it was that everyone could see her as she really was.

When she opened her eyes, everything was suddenly right. The cake was pink, the hotwheels were polly pocket, and her big present from her parents was getting her ears pierced. But then she opened her eyes for real, and reality was still good, she was still surrounded by friends and family who love her, but it was all slightly off again. The ice cream was melting and making the cake and the paper bowl both soggy, so she went out in the back yard and played with her friends, pretending to be the puppy while the other girls played house.

A month later and the baby is here! Her name is Gabby and she is a princess. Amber thinks she’s so tiny and lovely and she’ll love her forever. Grandma flew out from California to take care of the kids while Mom and the baby settle into some kind of routine. Amber likes her other grandma better, because she doesn’t make them eat their veggies and gives them extra desert. This grandma says that eating your veggies will “put hair on your chest” but Amber doesn’t want that. She is worried that she’ll grow up to look like her dad instead of her mom, but doesn’t know how to say any of that without offending anyone, and she doesn’t offend people, she the good one, the quiet one. Sally is the loud one who offends people.

School starts and Amber has to get up in front of everyone and lie to them, give them a boy’s name instead of her own. She was hoping to tell her parents before now, before she had to lie again, but it’s so hard to talk about, she doesn’t have the vocabulary, and they’ll get mad and… she’s not even sure how they will respond. She wishes she knew more, like does this happen to everyone or only some people or am I the only girl in the world born into the wrong skin? Can a doctor fix her body with medicine or a preacher fix it with a miracle? Her parents might have answers to these questions, but they get mad about other queer things like this, and I don’t want them to get mad at me and stop loving me…